From: EJG87478@aol.com A MOTHER'S ELEGY By Eric ------------- Disclaimer: All rights and privileges to "Rurouni Kenshin" belong to Nobuhiro Watsuki, Shuiesha, Sony Music Entertainment, and associated parties. The characters of these series are used WITHOUT permission and for entertainment purposes only. This work of fiction is not meant for sale or profit. Original portion of the fiction included here is considered the sole property of and copyrighted to the author. ------------- I. "Perfect in Eight Hundred Ways" (Diary Entry of 8.7. Meiji 21) I looked into my daughter's eyes tonight and found the North Star dimly reflected in depths of purple hues. She seemed to be staring at something beyond the rest of the world and myself. No one really understands what she sees. Sometimes, she whispers a few ghostly words and phrases that make sense only to her. I have tears in my eyes again, but I don't really care what anyone says. I know in my heart that my Tomoe is not dumb. I brought Seijuurou and Tomoe with me to the market in Asakusa this morning. People turned their heads and said things amongst themselves when they saw us. Some of them had pity in their eyes. Others had fear. Things have been that way for a long time. I tell myself that their thoughts and words mean nothing to us, but the hurt doesn't go away. I am always angry, but I can't find it in my heart to hate these people for what they think and say. If Tomoe were not my daughter, then I would be just one of them. People like that can be forgiven. Maybe the reason is because there really isn't much to forgive when you think about it. They don't really mean to hurt anyone. They just don't know what they're talking about. That kind of ignorance is what makes childhood meaningful and often times wonderful. The sad problem is that this meaning exists only in the minds of the truly grown-up and in the hearts of the truly guilty. I thought I knew what that truth meant before, and yet, I've never felt it more keenly than I do now. Seijuurou was very happy to be surrounded by so much activity. His eyes were so bright and alive. He pointed in rapture at crafts and foods and ran excitedly down the street from one vendor to another. Occasionally, he turned with his hands sternly on his hips and called for me to hurry. I lagged behind helplessly, smiling with Tomoe and purchases in my arms. At one point, I gave him the tofu tub to hold (which was fortunately empty) hoping it would slow him down. I could only dream of such luck with my son. He nearly threw the old, beaten wooden vessel into a ditch when he saw a candy shop displaying Western lollipops through the window. His passion was contagiously irresistible and insatiable. We read aloud kana and all the kanji he recognized on tinfoil wrappers. Poor old, superstitious Mrs. Hinjakume cowered silently and impatiently behind her wooden counter. I knew she felt Tomoe's presence was bad luck. Somehow, though, the sound of coins jingling in my hand coupled with my son's undeniably insatiable sweet tooth somehow always gave her miraculous courage. We brought home a hoard of lollipops and white Swiss chocolates for tomorrow. I tried to feed Tomoe one of the chocolates, but she took it from her mouth and fingered and cleaved it many times over until the tiny pieces melted in her hands. I didn't stop her. She looked so adorably cute. She said quietly to herself over and over, "It won't stop growing." I didn't understand what she meant. I never do, but the fault is mine and not Tomoe's. Tears came to my eyes as I watched her. I was inexplicably happy. I had to be happy. I can't be sad for my daughter because then I would be regretting Tomoe. I refuse to court my own self-damnation. Children aren't born to make men and women miserable; men and women do that to themselves. My father told me these words shortly before he died. I knew that he was right the first time I looked into the eyes of my four babies. I remembered the oath Kenshin had sworn to his first wife. The words were recorded in one of her diaries: "I swear to protect your happiness now and forever with everything that I am." I could not think of more beautiful or more honest words, and I cried when I spoke them to my children. I named my daughter in honor of my husband's first wife to reconcile the present and the future with the past and so that I would never forget my vow. I should never have made that promise. The soreness and the impressions the iron cuffs have carved into my wrists have begun to fade, but the stench remains undiminished. I doubt bathing for any amount of time in the bath would do any good. Maybe I should burn the kimono I wore today, but I doubt I will. Perhaps the smell will never truly leave, and I will never feel clean again. That seems okay somehow. I gazed into a hand mirror a short time ago. My son's teary face and the anguish in his violet eyes sprang up and devoured me again. We were at a Ginza teahouse parlor surrounded by the snickering faces of the other patrons. Their numbers were multiplied infinite times by the mirrored walls. Forty seemed like seventy, and seventy seemed like eight hundred. The women were dressed in their fine silk kimonos and French hoop-skirted dresses. The men wore their German and English wool suits. They were encouraged by the disdainful utterances of some foreigners sitting and watching in their palm-fronded corner. The whole world was laughing at my children and me. I was taught as a child that the purpose of tea is peace and clarity. Today, however, I found only nightmarishly absolute clarity. Tomoe bore her eyes into her Earl-Gray at lunch. Something caught inside of me and dared to hope for the impossible. I coaxed Tomoe's hands around the porcelain teacup and helped her raise it shakily to the level of her chin. She threw the contents and inadvertently drenched a young woman at a nearby table wearing a white dress. The woman rose and marched to our table. I embraced Tomoe protectively and started to apologize, but the woman raised her hand in anger. I let it make contact with my face. "Shut up!" the woman seethed. "You disgusting peasant whore. You have nerve coming with your brats to this place, much less breathing in the same room as me. I'll deal with you later. My current business is with that insolent bastard girl of yours. I demand an apology." "Please," I said. "I apologize on my daughter's behalf. She didn't mean any harm. And we are not peasants." The woman snorted ungracefully and scrutinized us with ugly eyes. "You wear the clothes. Maybe you even have some money, but am I certain that it was acquired by less than honorable means. Your accent carries the filth of burakumin and gives you away. I want the girl's remorse. Yours is amusing, but not what I want. I, Mitsubishi Uzume, will not allow this public insult to go unanswered," she declared imperiously, as if her name was divine. "Surely even a tiny peasant brat like you knows my name." Tomoe was unaffected and studied her empty teacup. I was simultaneously happy and afraid for her. I warred desperately with myself and ended up calling for the waitress to bring our bill quickly. I listened for footsteps, but the room remained filled only with a tense, palpable silence. "Lady Mitsubishi," I said cautiously after several moments. "I beg you once again to please forgive my daughter. She's young. She doesn't understand what she's done. I can pay for your dress. Here. Now. In cash." Mitsubishi squinted against the sunlight pouring through the window behind me. Her mascara-frosted eyes suddenly narrowed into ugly slits. "Stupid looking. Little monkey. You're right, peasant. That brat of yours doesn't understand. She never will." Mitsubishi maliciously mimicked a gross cross of Tomoe's face with that of a monkey. The room erupted in laughter. My heart slammed violently in my throat and constricted in on itself. Everyone in that room was very different from anyone I ever heard talk against Tomoe. They were unforgivable. Tomoe had no bad intentions. The Revered have done worse. Many saints are canonized for their sins. I believe that even angels have sins. Righteousness is a form of malice. Yet, saints and angels are truly and purely good, and men can be redeemed because intent alone must be what defines good and evil. The cruelty of the people in that room was deliberate. My eyes wandered dazedly around me and marked their faces one by one until they returned to Mitsubishi Uzume herself in her tea-stained dress chortling with her left hand daintily concealing her big mouth. Seijuurou also laughed at his sister. My mind aches from the constant reliving of its unending nightmare. I never imagined myself capable of such a terrible feeling, much less that it could even exist. I did something I never thought I could do. I forgot for one terrible moment that Seijuurou is my son no matter what he thinks, says, or does and that I love him with all my heart. I am his mother. He is just a boy. I broke the hand mirror. I didn't mean to do that. I just couldn't stand the sight of my own face. A shard landed in my palm. It was so fantastically cold that it felt warm. I ground it desperately into my flesh. The pain felt good and right. My husband should not have stopped me. He was right when he said that hurting myself would change nothing, but I told myself that was very the reason he should have let me. "It's just a hand," I begged him. "Just a hand." He kissed me. Kenshin is that kind of man. I am the kind of woman who had to look away. No, that isn't right. I was not really looking away. I couldn't because Seijuurou's eyes were everywhere. They bled with the indescribable anguish of someone dearly betrayed. He didn't know what he did wrong, and, to my utterly profound mortification, I suddenly didn't either. Tears flowed down his cheeks and mingled with the blood trickling over his trembling lip. Instinctively, I reached out to him and whispered his name, but he struggled desperately to his hands and knees and shrank away from his mother in fear. "After I killed Tomoe, taking my own life would have been the easiest thing to do," my husband said at length. "The next easiest thing would've been to surrender to the madness brought on by the guilt. Learning how to live with myself was the hardest and most painful thing I've ever done." "I understand now why you didn't want me to make the promise," I told him. "I never said that," he said. "You didn't have to," I answered. "Your eyes said it best anyway. I thought you were just being stubborn. I'm sorry." "At least Seijuurou can hear you apologize," he said, a hint of the old sadness creeping into his voice. Unconsciously, he fingered the old scar on his cheek. "Personally, though, I don't think there's anything to forgive with either of you. It's the reason you told me the neighbors could be forgiven for saying things about Tomoe." I smiled a little despite myself. "Maybe that's so in Seijuurou's case, but you're wrong about me. You really should have left me in prison. I'm so scared of myself. I meant to hurt my son. I hit Lady Mitsubishi too. I tried to blame her for what I did. I'm so much worse than her as person in so many ways. You shouldn't pull favors for such a person." I went by my son's room earlier. I had not seen him or Tomoe since Ayame came for them. I thank my sister for having the foresight to hide their eyes as the police took me away. I gathered in not so many words that my son had been crying since I last saw him. He was still in tears as his father tried to put him to sleep. "Mommy hates me," he said to himself over and over. His voice was slightly distorted presumably because of his swollen cheek. "That's not true," Kenshin said gently. "Your mother loves you very much, Seijuurou." "Then why did she hit me?" he asked. My husband did not answer. My hand fell away from the door, and I walked away. "A little suffering could help someone like Mitsubishi Uzume," Kenshin said. I understood what he meant. "I wish Dr. Genzai never willed that third of his estate to me. I certainly didn't deserve it." "Money isn't evil. It's only what you make of it." He tenderly slipped his callused fingers over my trembling hands. "Now, I see why you've become a carpenter," I said thoughtfully. "You're thinking too hard," he said. "What do you mean?" I asked. "A letter came from Misao today," he said. "I think you should take Tomoe and visit her. It will be good for you. I'm sure you'll find your answers in Kyoto. Besides, you haven't seen her in such a long time." Kenshin could be so cryptic sometimes. "You're a good person, Kaoru," he said suddenly. "Please don't doubt that. I love you." "I'll leave the day after tomorrow," I said quietly. Strangely, I suddenly felt almost at peace. Tomorrow is the children's birthday. Tomoe and Seijuurou will be five. I have to go to the graves and apologize to Anshin and Jiyuu. I wish for just one moment that I could stand with my son and daughter on the other side of the mirror that divides Heaven and Earth and tell them I love them too. I searched a while ago for a few Swiss chocolates to bring them tomorrow, but the hot sun apparently melted all of them in my absence. Tomoe suddenly reached out touched a tear sliding down my cheek. I thought I heard the whisperings of the same tiny voice that saved me from killing Mitsubishi. The question was the same as before. "Why?" It was spoken so simply, softly, and beautifully that I wondered if I heard anything at all. Perhaps an angel was speaking from the other side of the Mirror. Perhaps it was just Tomoe studying me. Maybe the world she always seems to be studying something far beyond this world and me isn't so very far after all. I wondered. A funny smile capriciously alighted my lips. "Maybe it was you," I whispered lovingly. Her unearthly purple eyes seemed to flash in the darkness. No, my beloved Tomoe certainly is not dumb. She is perfect in eight hundred ways that no one can begin to imagine. -- Himura no Kamiya Kaoru Tokyo, August 7, 1888 --------------------------- ONElist Sponsor ---------------------------- Congratulations COUNTRYSIDE-ELIST. Our latest ONElist of the week. For full story and to submit yours, Click Here ------------------------------------------------------------------------